


Teachable Moments

by MSpataro210



Series: Season 12 Inspired [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Coda to 12x12, Confessions, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Diners, First Kisses, M/M, Sam Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: Coda to 12x12 "Stuck in the Middle (With You)"Dean's driving Cas home when Cas has the sudden urge to take Dean up on his offer for one of his 'teachable moments'.  Dean, still dealing with what went down in the barn, does what Cas asks.  But will Dean be the teacher... or the student?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Usually I'm good with these, getting them posted an hour or two after the episode or even the day after, but I ran into some trouble. Not with writing this, but with my health. Like I got really sick so I've been half-recovering, working on this, and also doing actual work? So I hope this is really good!  
> (Heads up, I am feeling better so don't worry too much-was probably a 24-hour bug or something).

            The road stretches on, the only light coming from the two headlights at the front of the car. The truck’s headlights glow bright enough that Dean can make out the outline of his Baby. He trusts Sam enough with his life but… it’s his _Baby_.

            And speaking of things that are his…

            “You holding up okay there, Cas?”

            He looks over to his right, where Castiel has his head pressed up against the window. Castiel’s eyes flutter a bit before he casts a bleary blue-eyed glance at Dean.

            “I’m dealing,” he sighs, cracking his neck. He moves a hand to scratch at the collar of his crisp, new shirt. Dean smiles at the motion.

            “Dean,” Cas starts, looking at him, “Are you sure-“

            “Like I said before Cas, no big deal,” Dean cuts him off, “besides, it beats that pimp’s car you had before.”

            “I liked that car,” Cas grumbles, shrinking into the seat.

            “Only one who did,” Dean lies.

            The silence takes over again. Dean looks back over at Cas every now and then, fingers flexing on the wheel. Cas does the same, except his hands are wringing themselves in his lap.

            “Dean?”

            “Yeah, Cas?”

            “Can I ask you something?”

            Dean furrows his brow, glancing over at Cas.

            “Of course, Cas,” Dean says, “Anything.”

            The look Cas sends his way has Dean’s heart working overtime, and his hangs gripping a bit too tight on the wheel. And maybe he starts to drift, unfocused on the road, until a small bump has him focusing on what’s in front of him.

            Cas takes his time. He glances out of the window a few times, mouth opening and closing. He licks his lips, and looks down.

            “Cas-“

            “Can we stop at the nearest diner?”

            Dean almost hits the breaks, startled by the unexpected request.

            “Uh,” Dean fumbles, “W-why?”

            “Well, I-uh,” Cas mirrors Dean’s wide-eyed expression, as if he was shocked himself. He looks back down at his hands. “I guess… it’s just-well, after what _nearly_ happened at the barn. I guess I… I realized I cannot wait around for another moment… a ‘ _teachable moment_ ’ I mean.” He offers a wide grimace, fingers hanging in the air after he finished quoting.

            Dean’s heart falls in his stomach, but he doesn’t stop the snort he knows Cas is expecting.

            “Oh-uh, sure,” Dean forces his mouth to uptick, “I-I guess we could stop-“

            “Only if it isn’t a bother-“

            “No, no,” Dean waves him off, looking up at a road sign, trying to find out when they pass the nearest diner. There’s one coming up in twenty-five miles. He casts a quick look at Baby, before turning to Cas, flashing a charming smile at him. “Besides, I could do with a good ol’ slice of pie with the day we’ve had.”

            Cas smiles back at Dean.

            “Thank you, Dean.”

            “No problem, Cas,” Dean turns back to the road, “it’s never a problem.” 

* * *

 

            The diner is near empty, which figures given the time of night. Dean chances a glance at the clock, a gaudy-looking black and white cat. The actual clock is in its stomach, saying it’s fifteen minutes to three in the morning.

            “Evening fellas,” a young woman, a few years under thirty greets them. She’s got messy red hair tied up in a bun, bright green eyes and a spatter of freckles across her face. Her uniform is an obnoxious mustard yellow. She grabs two menus: “Booth or table?”

            “Booth,” he says, looking at her name tag, “Thanks, Molly.”

            “Not a problem!”

            She drops them off at a corner booth, walking off with a swing to her step.

            “Good sign,” Dean says to Cas, whacking with his menu in good humor.

            “It seems,” Cas rolls his eyes, “but for whom?”

            “Tonight’s not about me, Cas,” Dean laughs, “this is all for you.”

            “…Right.”

            Dean raises his brows, the tone of Castiel’s voice oddly suspicious.

            “You know,” Dean starts, looking away and fiddling with menu, “you don’t _have_ to flirt with her-”

            “No, no,” Cas says, “I think… I guess I’m just nervous.”

            “About what?” Dean asks, “I thought this would be easier than, well… _everything_ we’d done in the past twelve hours.”

            “Fighting a demon is one thing,” Cas chuckles, “so is almost dying, given our track records, but this… I don’t know the first thing to do.”

            “Well, first things first, lose the jackets,” Dean smiles, “try and come off as relaxed dude instead of corporate goon.”

            Cas tilts his head at Dean before looking down at his outfit. He does as Dean suggests, shrugging off the trench coat, suit jacket following suit. He drops them off to his side.

            “Now what?”

            “Lose the tie?” Dean suggests, “Pop open a few buttons and-hey, maybe roll up a sleeve or two?”

            Cas is done by the time Molly comes back.

            “So what can I get you gentleman?”

            “I’ll have a burger with the works-hell, throw in a beer and some pie, too!” Dean rambles off, handing her the menu. He turns to Cas, who is staring at Dean with a deer-like quality to his eyes. His heart swells at the image, but soon enough he remembers _why_ he looks like that. He kicks Cas under the table.

            “Oh, me, right,” Cas says, picking up his menu to ‘peruse’ it. Molly watches this with a quirk to her brow, tapping the pen on the notepad. Cas looks up at Dean, and Dean subtly motions for Cas to flex.

            “I-uh, guess I’ll have the same,” Cas tells her, handing her the menu with one hand while the other stretches over his back, chest popping forward. Dean can get a peek of tanned skin from behind his white shirt and-

            ‘ _Not the time. Not the time. Not the time._ ’

            Dean looks away, blushing, while Molly blankly stares at Castiel.

            “Be back in a few,” she says with a forced smile, walking back to the kitchen. When the double doors finally swing shut, Cas rounds on Dean.

            “I don’t think that worked,” he tells Dean, “why?”

            “Well, I-uh,” Dean fumbles, “maybe she’s not into looks?”

            “That’s a shame,” Cas chuckles, “and here I thought I was ‘devastatingly handsome’.”

            “You are,” Dean says before he can stop himself. His eyes widen a beat before he coughs out, “I mean, from the girls you pulled before, it stands to reason-“

            “I get it Dean,” Cas rolls his eyes, “I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong. Talking to strangers it’s… it’s uncomfortable. Not like talking to _you_.”

            Dean stops himself, this time, before he could cram his other foot in his mouth. He clears his throat before continuing.

            “That’s why we gotta practice, Cas,” Dean says, “I mean, soon enough you’ll be charming your way across the states with the best of us.”

            “I’m glad one of us has hope,” Cas sighs, fiddling with his napkin, “I just… I wish I knew what to do-to say.”

            “You don’t need to do anything,” Dean waves him off, “just listen to what I tell you and you’ll be fine.”

            He’s just finished explaining to Cas just what he should do when Molly returns, balancing two plates on one arm and carrying the beer bottles in her other hand. She drops them on the table first before taking the plates from their perch and depositing them in front of them.

            “Anything else?”

            Dean looks at Cas and nods, smiling. Cas gulps and turns to Molly, who waits for him to speak.

            “Um-yes,” Cas starts, “I was wondering if… maybe the clock was wrong?”

            “The-the clock?” Molly glance a look at the cat, “Why?”

            “Because,” Cas clears his throat, reciting from memory, “it’s too bright out for it to be that late? Oh no, wait, that might just be your… smile?” He flashes her a quick grin.

            Dean bites back a groan and tries not to roll his eyes.

            “The clock is right,” she tells Cas. She turns to Dean, “And you?”

            “I’m-I’m fine,” Dean sighs, “thanks.”

            “No problem,” she chirps, rushing away from them and returning to the kitchen. This time, it’s Dean who turns on Cas. He kicks him, again, under the table.

            “You know,” Cas grumbles, “I shouldn’t have to suffer under this much abuse considering what I had to suffer through earlier.”

            “What the hell, man?” Dean asks, “How could you screw that up? I’ve gotten five-maybe six-servers off’a that line _alone_.”

            “I guess I didn’t say it right.”

            “No foolin’,” Dean scoffs, “you sounded like you were being held at gunpoint.”

            “I’m not used to doing this, Dean,” Cas tells him, “I’m not like you.”

            “That’s for sure,” Dean says.

            ‘ _You’re better_ ,’ he thinks.

            “Well, you ain’t gonna get anywhere if you let your nerves get to you,” Dean says, picking up his beer bottle.

            “Well, why don’t you show me how?”

            “I don’t think Molly’s gonna come out until we’re done.”

            “Molly’s not the only one here you can flirt with.”

            Dean chokes on his drink because, because Cas can’t have suggested what Dean thinks he did. Dean coughs, gasping for breath. He recovers just in time to see Cas look down at his own food, blushing.

            “I’m sorry,” Cas starts, “I didn’t mean-“

            “No, no,” Dean says, “just… startled, s’all. I didn’t think you’d…”

            “I’m better at visually learning,” Cas hastily explains, not meeting Dean’s eyes, “back in Heaven, when learning how to fight, it was only by getting in the field and practicing with someone I _trust_ before I could step onto any battlefield.”

            Something warm pools in Dean’s gut when Cas says he trusts Dean. It’s not like he doesn’t know, but a reminder every now and then is good.

            “You sure, Cas?” Dean smiles, “I mean, flirting with a guy is different than with a girl-I’d _assume_. I mean, you ever gonna do that?”

            “I might.”

            Dean’s breath is caught in his throat. He stares at Cas, wide-eyed.

            “What?”

            “Gender doesn’t really matter to me,” Cas shrugs.

            “O-okay,” Dean says, voice rougher than normal. He pulls at his shirt, noticing how the temperature must have risen since they walked in.

            “Thank you, Dean,” Cas smiles at him, blue eyes shining. Dean stares a bit too long into them before he reaches for his burger, taking a large bite into the cooling meat.

            “Hungry?” Cas asks, eyebrow raised.

            Dean can’t look at him when he replies: “Starving.”

            Dean takes a few more bites of the burger, shoves some fries down his throat, and drains the bottle of all it has before he begins. When he looks over at Cas, he sees he’s barely picked at his food.

            “So,” Dean starts, “if you’re not a fan of that meat, I’m sure I know one you’ll really enjoy?”

            “Sorry?”

            “Right,” Dean backpedals, blushing, “maybe I shouldn’t start with euphemisms.”

            “Relax, Dean,” Cas smiles, reaching out his hand to smooth it over Dean’s, “take your time.” Dean stares at their hands.

            “Right,” Dean repeats.

            He doesn’t do anything for a while, just letting Cas pet Dean’s hand, lost in the sensation of Cas’s hands moving across his own.

            “Dean?”

            “Huh?” Dean looks up, his eyes unfocused.

            “Maybe… start with something simple?” Cas suggests, smiling at Dean in a way, that, if Dean looks at it any longer, he wouldn’t be able to form words. He clears his throat and pulls his hand away.

            “Gotcha,” Dean says, using his now free hand to scratch at his head.

            ‘ _Get it together, Winchester. Put it away, you’re here to help Cas get laid… with someone else…’_

            He looks up at Cas and attempts his flirtiest smile. He leans forward on the table.

            “So, Cas, I gotta say,” he says, smirking, “you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

            Cas blinks at him, tilting his head. “How do I know you don’t just say that to every pretty face,” he questions.

            “Devastatingly handsome face, first of all,” Dean says, reaching out and bopping Castiel on the nose with his finger, “and secondly, they don’t need to know.”

            ‘ _Just like you don’t need to know how much I mean it_.’

            Castiel blushes and looks down at his food. He opens his mouth for a beat, as if to say something, only to shove a few fries in his mouth instead. Dean snorts, finding the whole action adorable.

            “Besides my eyes,” Castiel starts, “what else would you compliment me on?”

            “Maybe your muscles,” Dean says, “without all those layers you can really see what you’ve got to work with.”

            “I do like to keep in shape,” Cas looks down at his body, smiling.

            “How do you keep in shape?”

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

            Dean’s taken aback by the rise in Castiel’s eyebrow, by the way Cas is looking at him, with something in his eyes he’s never seen or never admitted to noticing. He reaches for his plate, a distraction, to see there’s nothing left on it.

            “Everything alright, Dean?”

            “Yeah, just still hungry, I guess,” he looks to the side, “think I’m gonna go see where Molly is with our-“

            “Pie?”

            He blinks up at Molly, who stands by their table with an amused smirk on her lips. She puts the plates down and turns before either one could say anything.

            Dean stares at the pie for a long time before Cas startles him by coughing.

            “Huh?”

            “I thought you were hungry?” Cas smiles at him, pointing at Dean’s pie with his fork. Dean looks over at Cas’s plate and sees he’s already finished half of his.

            “Right,” Dean says, picking up his fork and taking a piece. He brings it to his mouth, only to let it hover there. An idea hits him.

            “Say Cas,” Dean smiles, “you think we got the same pie?”

            “I think so,” Cas answers, squinting at Dean, “I don’t see the logic in cutting two different slices-“

            “Well, can you taste mine and let me know?” Dean holds his fork out, “I’m _awfully_ curious.” Dean winks at Cas, hedging the fork even closer to Cas’s mouth.

            Cas stares at the fork, cross-eyed, as Dean moves in closer. He wiggles the fork a bit.

            “Come on, Cas,” Dean chuckles, “it’s not gonna bite… but someone else might?”

            Cas meets his stare with one of his own, and leans forward. He slides his mouth over the fork slowly, never breaking eye contact with Dean the entire time. Dean’s grip on the fork nearly bends it.

            Cas slides back off the fork, drawing out his every step. He chews, groaning in appreciation. The rough chords send a shiver down Dean’s spine. He almost drops his fork.

            “It’s good,” Cas moans, “I think… better than mine.” He licks his lips, then looks down at his own plate. He takes a piece with his own fork and holds it out to Dean, an innocent expression on his face.

            “Would you care to see?”

            Now it’s Dean’s turn to stare at the fork. He looks at it, then up at Cas’s face, then back down. He clears his throat before moving forward, making quick work of the piece. He chews it thoughtfully, looking down at his plate.

            “That’s right, take it.”

            Dean stops. He looks up at Cas through his lashes, watching Cas as his pupils have dilated and he focuses on Dean’s face and-

            And that’s when he knows.

            “I think you’ve got enough experience,” Dean swallows, standing up. He takes out a few bills and tosses them on the table. “Just-just do it like that and I _know_ -I’m sure she’ll-um, she’ll like it,” he stumbles, nearly running for the door.

            Cas watches him leave, sighing as the door slams shut. He turns towards Dean’s barely touched pie and frowns.

            “Ready to pay?”

            Molly pops up out of nowhere. He stares at her, then looks down at the money on the table.

* * *

 

            Dean has been standing outside the truck door for around five minutes now. He has one hand on the handle, the other one playing with the keys in his pocket. He’s been trying to get in the truck for a while now, but can’t focus long enough to work through the simplest of motions.

            That’s when he feels the slight pressure at his back, and the breath ghosting across his ear. He freezes.

            “…Dean…”

            The door swings open, startling Dean back further into Cas’s embrace. Cas tightens his arms a beat before Dean starts to squirm. Cas releases him, and Dean jumps forward, rounding on Cas. His eyes are wide, his mouth agape. Cas tilts his head to the side.

            “Jesus, Cas,” Dean wheezes, “warn a guy will you.” He swallows nervously, eyes darting around the empty parking lot.

            “I’m… sorry.”

            “No, shit, Cas, I…” Dean starts, but trails off, turning around, “let’s just get back in the truck.”

            Cas doesn’t say anything else, shuffling to the other side of the cab, getting in right after Dean. He looks at Dean, mouth open, ready to say something, when Dean ignites the engine, and peals out of the space.

            It’s quiet for the longest time.

            Dean, for once, keeps his eyes completely on the road. He knows if he even dares look to his right he was going to say-hell, even _do_ something he knew he’d regret.

            But he doesn’t have a choice.

            “Dean,” Cas says, placing his hand on Dean’s arm, “please stop the car.”

            Dean jerks the wheel, swerving on the road for a second. He regains control before responding.

            “Just did, Cas,” Dean growls, “Don’t think there’s another diner for you to _practice_ in.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Dean whispers. And he doesn’t. Dean only has one person to blame for making it all awkward: himself.

            “But I do, Dean,” Cas continues, “I… I lied.”

            “What?”

            “Earlier, when talking about wanting to go to a diner? I didn’t want to-not really,” Cas says, “I just… it popped into my head because I was afraid.”

            “Afraid?”

            “Of saying it aloud,” Cas says, “Saying it, knowing that I’m not on the brink of death.”

            Dean swallows. He knows what ‘it’ is.

            “Cas-“

            “Dean,” Cas turns to him, gripping his wrist tight, “please, pull the truck over.”

            Dean doesn’t object. He pulls off to the side of the road and puts the truck in park. Cas turns to Dean, while Dean stays frozen at the wheel, unable to meet Cas’s eyes.

            “I almost died tonight,” Cas starts out, “again. And, you didn’t leave me. Again.”

            “Cas, I-“

            “You’ve never left me,” Cas says, “No matter what, you’ve stayed with me through it all.”

            “Because-because we’re family, Cas-“

            “Just family?”

            Dean quiets, and finally looks over at Cas. The angel is staring at him with such a look in his eyes he feels powerless in his presence. His hands sit idly in his lap, twitching every now and then. He wants to speak, to say something, but all he can choke out is a breathy:

            “What?”

            “We don’t have the luxury of waiting for moments, Dean,” Cas continues, “not with our lives. Not with everything we’ve done… our pasts and our actions are going to catch up with us someday. And it didn’t hit me until-until today. But Dean, I,” he licks his lips, “I couldn’t let another moment go without letting you know just how much I-how much I feel for you-“

            “Stop.”

            Cas startles. He looks at Dean, the hunter staring out Castiel’s window. His eyes are glassy and pooling tears.

            “What?”

            “You don’t-you _can’t_ love me,” Dean says, shaking his head, “not like that, Cas. You don’t-you deserve someone better.”

            “Dean I-“

            “And I’ve been selfish, I have,” Dean frowns, “I just-I’ve suffocated you and I-I know you need someone in your life who’s as perfect, and as kind and, and great as you but I just-I didn’t want to let go because I’m selfish. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

            “Dean, what are you talking about?”

            “There were so many other times I could have pushed you into finding the one for you,” Dean continues, grimacing, “Encouraging you to meet someone who isn’t… broken. Someone you can have a life with and live the true human experience. But I… I couldn’t because I-I want you so damn badly Cas. I do. And, knowing me, it- _I_ would only end up hurting you and-Cas, I never want to do that. You deserve someone better-someone who isn’t me.”

            “You…” Cas trails, squinting at Dean, mouth pressed into a hard line, “You can be so _stubborn_ at times.”

            Dean tries to looks away, blinking back the tears, but Cas’s hand finds his cheek and turns him to face the angel. Cas is looking at Dean with such a fire that he cannot force himself away.

            “Dean Winchester, who I love is my choice, and I’ve chosen you,” he says, “You keep talking about me as if I’m infallible but you should know better than anyone how many mistakes I’ve made in my life. The only thing I never considered a mistake was meeting you, Dean. You talk about yourself as if you aren’t worthy of my love, but in my eyes, you are worthy of so much more.”

            “Cas, I…”

            “And I’m tired of waiting,” Cas tells him, “Of moments that may never come. You need to make them yourself.”

            And then Cas kisses him.

            It’s everything Dean’s imagined it’d be but still surprising in many ways. Dean melts into the kiss in mere seconds, closing his eyes and bringing his own hand up to rest over the one Cas has on his face.

            They stay like that for a long time, enough so when Dean breaks for air his cheeks are ruddy and his lungs are burning.

            “Cas I…” Dean starts, “I’m not saying I don’t feel the same for you because I-I do. I love you so much, but… one day you’re gonna look at me and realize I’m not good enough for you.”

            Cas smiles, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Dean’s cheek; “Well then,” he says, “I guess we’ll just have to find some more ‘teachable moments’.”

            “For what?”

            “To help you see that you are.”

            Cas gives him a chaste kiss on the lips, his hand playing with the collar of his shirt. Dean feels something grand swell up in his chest, at the pure emotion he sees in Cas’s eyes he knows are reflected in his own, watery ones. He huffs a laugh, giving his angel a shaky smile.

            “I… I hope I can,” Dean tells him, “one day.”

            Dean drops his own small kiss on Cas’s lips before he turns the key and re-starts the car. They pull out and drive back into the night.

            Dean only has one hand on the wheel, his other hand occupied holding onto something far, far more important. 

* * *

 

            “-were right behind me,” Sam talks into the phone, pacing the war room frantically, “it’s not like Dean to just let Baby out of his sights. I mean-I almost holy water’d him when he gave _me_ the keys.” He pauses, pouting into the phone.

            “I’m not being overdramatic.”

            He’s about to defend himself further when he hears the Bunker doors open behind him.

            “Hopefully that’s them, Mom,” he tells her, “I’ll call you later.”

            He hangs up and turns. He starts, “Where were you…”

            He trails off, staring as Cas leads Dean down the steps, hands still joined. Cas is smiling at Sam while Dean looks down, cheeks red. They make it to the bottom of the stairs when Sam shakes off his surprise.

            “Hey,” he says, walking to meet them, “you guys weren’t following…”

            “Sorry,” Cas says, “Dean and I decided to stop for a bit. We needed to… discuss some things.”

            “I can see,” he laughs, looking back at their joined hands, then at Dean, “So is this going to be a regular thing?”

            Cas looks at Dean as well, silent. Dean blushes harder under the scrutiny. He sucks in a breath and looks up at Sam.

            “Yeah,” he says, “it is.” There’s a challenge in his eyes, daring Sam to say something.

            All Sam does is snort and congratulate them. Dean draws his brows up in confusion.

            “What?” Sam asks, cheekily, “I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”

            “You knew?”

            “Like it wasn’t obvious,” Sam rolls his eyes, turning around, “I mean, he told you he loves you, Dean.”

            “That wasn’t directed at me,” Dean defends himself, weakly. Sam stops and shoots Dean a dry look from over his shoulder.

            Dean cowers, muttering, “Shut up.”

            “I’m gonna go fill Mom in on the good news,” Sam tells them, “I know after today, she’ll be thrilled.”

            They stay there, frozen at the bottom of the steps, until Sam’s footfalls fade. Cas turns to Dean, cupping his face in his hand.

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah,” Dean mumbles, “’s’just… gonna have to get used to this.”

            “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Cas smiles, placing a kiss at the corner of Dean’s lips. Dean smiles, and lets go of Cas’s hand to tuck Cas into his side. He plays with the hairs at the nape of Cas’s neck.

            “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean tells him. Then he moves in to give Cas a longer kiss, pulling away slowly. “Come on,” he smiles, “let’s go to our room.”

            “Our… room?”

            “Yeah,” Dean laughs, “the one in our home.”

            “I’d like that,” Cas smiles, “very much.”

            They take their time, savoring the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all like it?  
> This has been, honestly, one of my favorite one-shots I've ever written because I think it's such a marker for how far I've come along in regards to writing? Like, this feels like one of the best things I've ever done on this site?  
> Let me know what you think! Leave a kudos, drop a comment, or both!  
> Till next time!


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